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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: But, It's Okay
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I returned to my room and killed time until lights out.
How long had I waited like that?
Ding—dong—
The bell rang exactly ten times.
As the clear chime echoed across the quiet dormitory grounds, announcing ten o'clock, the dormitory supervisor's voice soon rang out from the hallway.
"Roll call beginning."
The supervisor, having already checked the lower floors, swept through the eighth-floor rooms, verifying headcounts.
Pola and I sat on our beds to greet him, and the entire roll call was over in less than thirty minutes.
The time after that could be called our own free period, more or less.
Students who wanted to sleep did so, and those who wanted to study cracked open their books.
In principle, it was lights-out after roll call, but as long as you didn't leave the dormitory, they didn't make a big fuss about it.
That was what the supervisor had mentioned during roll call.
'Just don't cause any real trouble.'
But maybe because it was the first day at the academy, the hallway remained silent.
The new students, exhausted from touring the academy, had passed out right away, and even those who hadn't turned in early to avoid being late for their first classes.
I lay down on my bed and closed my eyes.
I planned to stay like that until Pola fell asleep, but the guy's restless presence kept me awake longer than expected, and a sudden thought crossed my mind.
'What if he doesn't sleep... then it's fine to put him under forever?'
Of course, that wasn't fine.
I shook off the idle notion and checked my current condition.
So far, I'd melted down about seventy percent of the elixir's potency with my magic power.
Thanks to the grimoire's transformation into a Fire Mark, there was almost no loss.
That meant I'd built up a solid foundation, but whether this state was enough to take on Karahen was another question.
'At least I can use Collision Formula properly...'
My current body was far too frail compared to my past life.
Put simply, its durability couldn't handle the aftermath of an all-out Collision Formula.
'Physical durability... that's something to solve step by step.'
I calmly reviewed my status again.
What I could do, what I couldn't. I etched both firmly into my mind, then cautiously predicted what my opponent could and couldn't do.
Of course, I didn't forget to stay unpredictable.
This was just preparation.
No matter what situation arose, knowing my limits clearly meant I could respond without panic.
In the midst of that, I also envisioned the worst-case scenarios I might face.
For example, like this.
If Professor Parun and Karahen were in cahoots and wrapped things up peacefully.
From my position, I'd have to take on Karahen and all the Troubleshooters at once, which would force me to become the hitman.
Meaning, I'd assassinate him with a surprise attack.
But I hoped it wouldn't come to that. Regardless of Karahen's survival, my own life would be on the line.
Still, I had no intention of letting Karahen walk away.
'There won't be a better chance than this.'
And it wasn't just because of his secret art.
Right now, Karahen was one of many vice-captains in the Decullan mage corps.
His name was somewhat known, but he was still just a promising talent, his true value only emerging in the future.
If you didn't know that, fine—but ignoring him now, knowing what he would become, was just nurturing a future threat.
'Maximum engagement time: five minutes.'
I wasn't in peak condition.
My magic power reserves, gear, physical state—everything fell short of my past life.
But hey, when had I ever gone into a fight fully prepared? Never. In a way, this inadequacy felt familiar.
The one thing I needed was the right mental trigger.
'Alright.'
I'd sharpened my mind to a fine edge when.
Rustle.
Pola, lying next to me, sat up in bed.
"..."
All my senses were honed razor-sharp.
Every sound in the room painted a vivid picture.
He walked toward the wardrobe, shed his clothes, then pulled something from a hidden box and dressed.
It wasn't just clothes he took out—it seemed like some kind of leather belt gear.
Click-click.
The faint sounds echoed softly.
Pola glanced at my spot for a moment.
Seeing no reaction, he opened the window and slipped outside.
Slide.
The window he'd opened slid shut.
Once Pola's presence fully vanished, I rose from my bed.
'A mercenary band.'
Battle experience beyond his years. That thing at his waist was probably a dagger holster.
A faint metallic scent tickled my nose. Mixed in with human blood, but mostly monster.
I stopped thinking there and erased Pola from my mind.
What his goal was. Why he was sneaking out.
I set aside questions and guesses, focusing solely on my own task.
I pulled out the stealth outfit I'd prepared during my few days in Hazen, slipped it on, and donned a black mask that fully concealed my face.
Standing before the mirror then.
'...'
My past-life self stared back.
Not Aster.
No. 1.
The masked figure in the mirror was No. 1.
I opened the window Pola had closed and leaped toward the world beyond the academy.
'Moon, grant that I become a righteous Troubleshooter tonight as well.'
The bright moonlight bathed the surroundings, but as always, no answer came.
But, it's okay.
I wasn't a Troubleshooter now anyway—and I'd never truly been righteous.
* * *
By now, it was nearing midnight.
"..."
Professor Parun sat in his office, eyes gently closed.
The vast mansion.
With all the servants gone home, the empty estate suddenly teemed with presences.
Parun frowned slightly at the sensation, his expression one of utter disgust.
'Rat bastards...'
He'd endured them for nearly a year.
He'd known early on that Henji—that damnable worm—had been exposed, and he'd spotted the Decullan watchers on him even sooner.
Having filthy rats skulking around was revolting beyond words. Yet Parun had overlooked their existence with superhuman patience.
For nearly a year.
They probably thought they'd hidden their tails well.
But how could he miss that nauseating stench trailing him everywhere—to the academy, the mansion, wherever he went.
Still, the reason Parun had let them live was simple.
Not to provoke the Decullans? No.
Guilt over his Heavenly Origin Art research? No.
Just one reason.
The rats had known their place and never crossed the line.
But now, they'd slithered right into the heart of his mansion.
'They've finally crossed it.'
Sneaking in when he was away? Fine. Unpleasant, but he could erase the traces.
But invading his territory right in front of him? His patience had run out.
From the presences, it seemed not just the academy rats, but all the vermin scattered across Hazen had gathered.
One mystery, though.
Rats only got this bold for a reason.
Whether they'd scented rotten meat or were starving near death.
Of course, these weren't true rats, so neither. But there had to be a trigger.
"I see."
Parun cracked open his closed eyes.
A presence distinctly separate from the rats seeped into the mansion, approaching.
How much time passed?
Click.
The doorknob turned, and one person entered.
Face obscured by a hood, but the dagger holster and sword at his waist gave away his identity easily enough.
Too clumsy a presence for a true nightwalker. Gear rough and unrefined.
'A mercenary. And...'
Professor Parun fixed his gaze on the approaching hooded figure.
"Pola."
Jenion Academy's 172nd class top martial entrant.
He'd only glimpsed him briefly during the oath in the auditorium, but Parun's eyes were sharp.
And every professor knew Pola belonged to a mercenary band, so connecting the dots was simple.
The man himself seemed quite startled.
"...!"
The hooded figure's steps halted for a moment.
Then, as if he'd heard nothing, he approached and offered the item.
"Next time, refine your ether's form first if you're going to disguise yourself. That's basic for night ops. ...Well, if there's a next time."
Pola stood frozen, unsure how to react, but Parun ignored it.
He simply examined the offered item.
A thick envelope of documents, sealed at the flap.
And the crest stamped on the seal was all too familiar.
Realizing that, Parun understood what scent the rats had caught.
'Henji, it was you.'
After a year scheming to deliver papers past Decullan eyes, caught so pathetically.
The thought flashed, but Parun dismissed it.
Would that slimy bastard get nabbed so easily?
No, never.
'Hmm, what scheme is this?'
Doubts surfaced and sank.
What was in the envelope? Why send a student mercenary like Pola here?
Maybe he'd commissioned a decent band, and Pola just happened to draw the job.
Pola's Kalria Mercenaries were well-known, based near the Blandogas where Henji lurked.
Parun mulled it over, then wiped it all away.
'Wasting effort trying to read a madman's mind.'
From basic academy classes to assistant professor days.
They'd shared much of their lives—friends, if you could call it that—but his thoughts were impossible to pin down.
Better to focus on the present than rack his brains over the unknowable.
'And right on cue...'
Another uninvited guest arrived.
Thud, thud.
Footsteps echoed down the hall.
Impossible to ignore; the presence pressed against his skin.
Unlike the rats straining for stealth, this guest brazenly exuded aura.
Usually, one of two cases.
Prey bloating itself against a predator, or a top-tier predator needing no concealment.
Boom—
The intruder who burst in with a crash was the latter.
"Pleased to meet you, Professor Parun. Name's Karahen. Wonder if a lab hermit like you even knows it?"
"...!"
Pola flinched at the name.
Karahen grinned merrily at the sight.
"Haha, you there... mercenary? Mercenary scum? Why's the scum wearing a hood? Anyway, that sword-slinger knows me. How about you, Professor?"
Professor Parun took in Karahen steadily.
Of course he knew.
It had been ages since Parun holed up in his lab, but Jenion Academy professors didn't rise on research alone.
He'd stood on battlefields, lived as fiercely as any field mage.
And even if not—how could he not know?
Karahen, the Fire Demon of Decullan.
But.
"Never heard of you."
"...Haha."
Karahen let out a dry laugh.
"Cut the crap and get to the point. My nose is rotting from you vermin's stench."
Professor Parun looked down on Karahen with utter contempt.